


your heartbeat is my favourite song, my darling

by active_galactic_nuclei



Category: Slipknot (Band)
Genre: Domestic, Fluff, Other, Reader-Insert, Stream of Consciousness, gender neutral reader, head full many thoughts, i just love joey and i wanted to write a stupid fic where i brush his hair n shit okay, not proofread ok its 1 am
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-27
Updated: 2021-01-27
Packaged: 2021-03-12 23:14:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,435
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29018778
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/active_galactic_nuclei/pseuds/active_galactic_nuclei
Summary: the one where there was a joey shaped hole in your life that you didn't know was there until he came along and filled it
Relationships: Joey Jordison/Reader
Comments: 4
Kudos: 13





	your heartbeat is my favourite song, my darling

**Author's Note:**

  * For [phantomystery](https://archiveofourown.org/users/phantomystery/gifts).



> i said i was working on a joey fic not that i was working on a GOOD joey fic ok

To be fair, you didn't expect Joey to come into your life as quickly as he did. He worked his way into your life slowly, bit by bit, until suddenly you couldn’t remember how anything was before he was there to do it with you. But that's how the best things start, isn't it? A trickle without any flood to speak of, just a constant drip until the last drop has flowed out. Really, you could have let the dripping drive you crazy. After all, it's not easy to learn to share your life with someone, and especially not when you don't even _know_ you're meant to be learning that. But that's what you and Joey got right, so it seems. An equilibrium between his crazy and your sane, his fast and your slow, his nasty and your nice. And of course it's hard, people are hard no matter how much you love them, but with Joey even the hard bits are their own sort of easy. 

And it's these moments that you think of when it gets tough, because these are the moments you remember the best. Because Joeys downstairs and you can hear him in the kitchen putting a stupid Kids Cuisine chicken nugget meal in the oven purely because you complain about how gross they are and he lives to do nothing but spite you. And, yeah, it's gonna come out kind of cold in the middle still because your oven is old as shit and you definitely can’t afford to replace it, but it's fine because Joey will eat it and he won’t complain, just laugh at your disgusted face while he does it. 

So you put your book down onto the old little broken coffee table that has one leg replaced by a stack of old boxes and magazines because “babe I’m a fucking genius, trust me” and make your way into the kitchen where your boyfriend is grabbing a glass out of the cupboard (well... glass is a strong word, it’s most definitely a plastic cup you bought from a thrift store, lets not kid ourselves.) But he's grabbing this glass or cup or whatever the fuck you want to call it out of the cupboard and he can’t reach the top shelf because hes 5’3, sue him, so he puts his knees on the counter and finally grabs it. And as he’s climbing back down it's only then that he notices you're standing there watching him and he looks absolutely startled for a second and then he's normal again and he's grabbing the two liter of pepsi from the fridge and pouring it into his glass or cup or mug or fucking goblet or whatever the fuck it may be with a gentle smile on his face when he asks you if you want any. And when you say yes all he does is hand his drink to you and tell you to share because he’s not getting another cup and you roll your eyes but there's no annoyance behind it as you take a sip. And then Joey's taking the drink back and setting it on the counter behind him to take your face in his hands and kiss you, artificially sweet and just the right amount of soft.

Watching Joey is always a treat, most notably when he's not aware that you're watching him, no matter how creepy that sounds. You just love to watch him as he does mundane normal people things, just pacing around the room far away in his own head. Sometimes it makes you feel like some sort of bored god, just watching your boyfriend while you sit at the top of the stairs and press your cheek into the bars of the railing. And that's what you’re doing now, just watching him while he sits on the floor in the living room, leaning forward on his elbow and writing something down while he taps out a steady, monotonous rhythm on the floorboards. You're not quite sure whether what he's writing down has anything to do with the tapping, but you know you've heard that pattern before when he's drummed his fingers on every solid surface in the house and after asking about it once before you also know that “this one’s gonna be sick when I can finally record it with the band” so you don’t question him, just watch him while he works out whatever tangled mess of thoughts he has in his head right then. And it's just so _nice_ , so comforting somehow. Just looking at him teaches you things about love that you didn’t even know you didn’t know. And eventually he puts the pen down and catches your gaze and he just smiles this smile that takes your breath away every goddamn time like it’s the first time you’ve ever seen someone fucking smile. And then it's all “babe come here” and “I love you” and “you’re so pretty, you know that?” and it’s with enough warmth that it nearly makes you cry but it doesn’t, just makes you smile and take him in your arms. 

It’s that night as you’re winding down for bed and Joey’s in the bath when you come to the realization that he’s the love of your life. And, sure, maybe you could’ve figured that out sooner, but it hasn’t been quite so _real_ until right now. Because now you're sat next to him on the rim of the tub and it's so utterly fucking _tangible_ how much you love him. You’re sitting here massaging this cheap green apple shampoo into his hair and your heart is full with the idea of being here like this forever. But you can’t do it forever, because eventually you’re telling Joey to lean his head back or it’ll get in his eyes and you’re rinsing his hair with the shower head and the waters going greyish as the remnants of his hair dye come out into it. And as you smooth the conditioner down through his ends you tell him how much he means to you and yeah, maybe you shouldn’t tell your partner that you’d probably kill yourself if you ever broke up but its late and you’re tired and its just the truth and he seems to feel the same so no harm done. And maybe when you wash out the conditioner, a few tears slip down your cheek at the thought of losing him while his eyes are closed and he can’t see you. 

Then you’re helping him out of the tub and giving him a towel to wrap around himself while he sits on the ground in front of you and lets you run a brush through his head of long black hair. He winces when the brush goes through a snarl in his hair and he gives you the most nonchalant “you’re hurting me baby” that you’ve ever heard, but you still lean down to kiss him on the crown of his head and say you’re sorry. And then you pull his hair into two (more or less) equal sections and start braiding them while he talks about the band and how he can’t wait for this record to come out because it’s so good and all number of other stuff and you listen as much as you can until he starts talking about drum shit you can’t understand and then you just let yourself enjoy the sound of his voice. And all too quickly and not quickly enough you’re wrapping a hair tie around the tails of the second braid you just made and telling him to stand up. And you wrap your arms around his shoulders and lean your foreheads together as the last sunbeams filter in through the curtains in the milky twilight and kiss him until dusk sets in a moment later. 

When you finally get into bed you realize how lucky you are as Joey holds you to his chest and pets your hair. Because god, there are 7 billion people on earth and you got this one, this beautiful, intelligent, funny, perfect one. And so you let him kiss you and you lay your head on his chest and listen to his breathing as it goes in and out, in and out, in and out. And then it evens itself out in a way that tells you he must be asleep and god, what time is it, you should be too. So you fall into the most restful sleep that you’ve gotten in months thinking about him. And everything's ok. For once, everything’s ok.


End file.
